


Glitterstim

by Happy_Cow



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bad Ending, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, F/M, Grooming, Han Solo's A+ Parenting, I hope thats a sarcastic tag, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Master/Pet, Masturbation, Older Man/Younger Woman, Past Child Abuse, Pet Names, Poor Kylo Ren, Poor Rey (Star Wars), Rey is 16, Sad Ending, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:29:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29535477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happy_Cow/pseuds/Happy_Cow
Summary: After a bad accident during training, Rey’s master gives her something to help ease the pain. Just a pinch of ‘spice’, he calls it.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 25
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the long pause;;   
> I feel like I was possessed by something while writing this, I already have a couple chapters :l 
> 
> this is based on Lisey's Story by Stephen King, and Redo of a Healer which is INSANE

Apparently there were things that Bacta gel couldn’t heal, or at least not very well. Rey received an impromptu medical lesson after she woke up in the hospital. 

Bacta gel was good for mending things like cuts and sores, broken rib bones, and sometimes a fractured sternum. For the record, Rey was put in the tank for a little bit while she was unconscious, and it did only that much at least. Limbs were _harder_ to repair, due to all the complicated little bones. Benjamin helpfully listed what bacta had _not_ done, using his own family as examples. Bacta could _not_ regrow Luke Skywalker’s arm. Bacta could _not_ put Darth Vader back together again, and the pain relief lasted only so long as he was floating in the stuff. Rey pretended not to hear him, being distracted as she was by the _cage_ binding the entirety of her left leg.

It looked like a torture contraption. She could not move it even an inch; her leg was wrapped in a cocoon of gauze, and hideous metal pins stuck out of that gauze, and the whole thing was suspended in the air by a cage attached to the gurney. Rey didn’t like to look at it for too long, because if she did, she felt she could imagine the pins piercing her calf and thigh. 

“I’m told it looks worse than it really is,” said Benjamin. His eyes were red at the edges and ringed by shadows. When he went to the bathroom earlier, a Togrutan nurse came in and told her that he virtually hadn’t slept since the day he carried her into the hospital. Rey wished that nurse had minded her own business, really. 

Master Solo, a Jedi Consular, fed her her first meal of soft foods. It was apple sauce in a little cup. Rey’s left arm was tucked against her chest, in a cast, so she couldn’t manage it on her own. Benjamin was quiet for the most part, but then on the last bite, a little of it dribbled down the corner of her mouth. When she tried to lick it off, he started _smiling_ and making weird _noises_ in his throat. 

“ _Messy girl,_ ” he cooed. That change in his voice soured her appetite, and she almost wanted to spit out the apple sauce. Her Master didn’t seem to notice her discomfort, or at least he chose not to.

.

One afternoon, Finn, Rose, and Poe came to visit her; Finn even brought flowers from Maz! Rey loved it, but she wished that Ben wasn’t in the room. He just sat in the chair beside her bed, staring at them. When Poe asked when they could sign her cast, Ben actually _growled_. “Maybe next time you should _call_ before you visit,” he said icily. 

As soon as they left, Rey turned to her Master. If she wasn’t strapped down to this gurney, she might have actually attacked him. Instead she said, “You didn’t have to be so _rude_ to them.”

Ben shrugged. He crossed his legs in his chair and flipped through the packet of papers he was looking through; Rey was told that those were proposed Constitutional amendments. Rey didn’t wholly understand the role of a Jedi Consular, but she knew that he was the son of Princess Leia Organa. So he could be a Jedi politician, or a lobbyist. 

“Why are you even here?” she demanded of him. “Shouldn’t you be in a _meeting_ or something?” 

“You’re my priority,” he said, without looking up from his papers.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been a Jedi,” she muttered. “You’re more interested in _politics_ than the _Force_.”

“One is not exclusive of the other,” he droned.

Rey crossed her good arm over her broken arm. Her mended ribs still ached, days after being removed from the bacta gel. “Maybe if you had been paying more attention to the _Force_ than to _politics_ ,” she began in a trembling voice. He raised his head, giving her the brunt of his full attention. Rey didn’t finish the sentence, because she knew she hit her mark. 

When Benjamin Solo accepted her as his padawan, she couldn’t believe she could be so fortunate. He was virtually a Skywalker, descended from Anakin and nephew to Luke. The other Jedi Masters deemed Rey to be unusually adept in the Force, but she was ultimately a nobody, from a nowhere planet. 

Slowly, she had begun to suspect that being a Jedi was more of a _hobby_ to Benjamin Solo than a _calling_. A nothing-girl from Jakku wouldn’t complain that her Master spent three days debating the economic rights of moisture-farmers with governors, leaving her to her own devices. Then again, that might be the role of a Jedi Consular, but it still held no appeal to her. In hindsight, Rey wished she could have had a Jedi Guardian or Sentinel, but who would say no to a _Skywalker_?

She didn’t expect Ben to say anything, since his work was so important. It probably was. Politics and economics moved the fate of the galaxy just as much as the Force did, according to him. So she was surprised when a hand settled on her shoulder. She raised her head to look at him, and found him hovering over her. 

“ _You_ are my priority,” Ben repeated. Only a hair’s-breadth of space separated their faces. Rey tried to shrug him off, but his fingers curled around her left shoulder. 

“ _Master, you’re hurting me—_.” His hand fell from her shoulder, but all the same, Rey leaned away from him. She rubbed the place that he grabbed and felt a deep ache which reverberated down her arm. A chill ran down her back; she had never thought of her Master as being _dangerous_ before. 

“Did I _hurt_ you?” he asked, his voice raising to a strange pitch. “ _I’m_ _s_... _sorry_ , Rey,” he said. “Ben didn’t _mean_ it. He’ll be more _careful_.”

There was that voice again. “ _Don’t talk to me like that,_ ” she snapped, abashed. Ben recoiled as if he’d been hit, but she couldn’t stop herself. “ _I hate it! I’m not a baby!_ ” The least he could do for her right now was to stop being so condescending. 

Ben turned his face down; the papers crumpled as he closed his hands into fists at his sides.

It felt like forever until the hospital finally released her. They gave her some antibiotic pills, some painkillers, and a set of instructions. The most important thing was not to get the cast wet, which was a shame because the thing she wanted the most was a nice hot shower. _No more sponge baths, please._

While traveling with her Master, Rey had lived and slept in a variety of places. In ships, in tents, in stone huts, in diplomat’s housing, in a sleeping bag beside a campfire. But this was Naboo, and because he was Leia Organa’s son and a Jedi Consular, Benjamin Solo warranted his own manor. The front door opened to a spacious entryway, with an attached waiting room in case several people sought audience with the master of the house. Fortunately, it was empty on the day that Benjamin wheeled her inside. He could at least spare her a few precious minutes to reacquaint her with the house … perhaps.

He cast a quick glance in the direction of the conference room. Rey sagged in her wheelchair; he could be so predictable at times. “Oh go ahead,” she mumbled. “I’ll ask one of the droids to carry me up to my room.”

There was a beat of silence, so she turned around awkwardly in her seat to look at him. His brow raised in surprise, and he had a sort of guilty look on his face. His fingers uncurled and curled around the handles that steered the wheelchair. “Rey,” he said, “when you had your accident, we decided it would be convenient for you if you lived on the ground-level.” By ‘we’, Rey knew that that decision didn’t involve her input. He meant himself and his mother.

Her heart sank. 

“The droids completed the move,” he explained, in a voice as soft as velvet. He wheeled her forward; Rey noticed that the handwoven carpets on the floors had already been removed, so that the wheels wouldn’t scuff them. As far as Rey knew, there were no bedrooms on the ground-level, so she wondered just where this mystery room would be. 

Benjamin wheeled her through the formal dining room and into the kitchen, then down the ‘gallery’, which was a long narrow hallway filled with her Master’s strange art. Rey felt her anxiety rise; the room at the end of the gallery had always given her a bad feeling. It was sort of a ‘treasure’ room where he brought his closest ‘friends’ to show them his family’s heirlooms, chief among them Darth Vader’s helmet. Sometimes, Benjamin would lock himself in there alone, and she would hear his muffled voice inside. Rey sank into her wheelchair with a growing sense of unease. 

But when Benjamin threw the doors open, she saw that the room had been transformed. He wheeled her inside. A bed, a bookshelf, and a bureau to hold her clothes stood at attention at the walls. All of her stuffies were placed on her bed, and Rey could see that some of her treasures were put on the low shelving so that she could check over them. To top it off, her photographs were tacked on the walls at her eye-level: her and Ahsoka at the beach, Ben sitting in the sand, all of her friends standing in front of a Life Day tree, Luke Skywalker doing a funny face. 

Rey turned her attention to a new desk at the side of her room. She recognized Maz’s bouquet of flowers lying on the table, and an even bigger one in a crystal vase, filled with perfect white flowers in the shape of trumpets. Benjamin let her wheel herself towards it, and she picked up a small card with a strange emblem on it, like a spiked circle. 

“Those are from my friends,” said Benjamin, in a small voice as if he were embarrassed.

Rey opened the card. “‘The First Order sends its regards,’” read Rey. She reached up and touched one of the voluminous petals, feeling its softness. “Tell them I said ‘Thank you,’” she said awkwardly. “Could I get a vase with water for my friends’ flowers?”

“You can have whatever you want,” he said, a slow smile stretching across his face. 

.

While Benjamin was in his meeting, Rey attempted to use the refresher ‘all by herself’. At the hospital, a nurse helped her do her business in a bedpan, but here there were only the servant-droids. They were friendly enough, but the one tried to grab Rey by the waist and plop her down onto the toilet, like a bag of meat. The ground-floor refresher was not as big as the master refresher upstairs, and it was made smaller with the big clanking droid shuffling around her broken leg. She managed to get the job done with minimal injury and only minor psychological damage, but it still was a blow to her pride. 

Rey went to the kitchen to get a glass of water, but found that all the countertops were just out of reach. So far, her raw skill with the Force extended to making rocks float upwards and jumping very high, but there were _finer_ _things_ that still frustrated her. Levitating a cup while opening the sink, and then bringing the full cup towards her without spilling a drop, for instance. Or, landing from a very high altitude without breaking bones. In both cases, the object just slipped from her grasp. Shame-faced, Rey apologized to the attendant droid for the mess that she made and asked it for a cup of water, instead. 

At first, she thought of telling Benjamin about her difficulties; but when he walked out of the meeting room, he looked so pleased that she decided not to tell him. So when he asked her if she liked the room, she nodded. 

“Mother will be glad to hear that,” he said, his shoulders sagging with relief. “I wondered if the refresher would be too small, but she said that a girl should have her _freedom_.” His expression faltered for a brief second, but it passed. “There’s more space on the ground-level for you to move around, and you’ll have access to the kitchen and the terrace. The droids can open the door for you when I’m away and take you for a walk when it’s nice out.”

More and more, Rey found herself warming up to her new living conditions. She knew that he was trying his best, and the fact that he consulted his mother — Senator Leia Organa — didn’t go over her head. But, she just couldn’t let go of her anger completely. “ _Thank you,_ ” she said, begrudgingly. 

She had hoped he wouldn’t sense the bitterness in her voice, but his smile slackened. He was still a Jedi, after all. Rey turned her head evasively, refusing to look at him. If he expected to win her _total_ forgiveness in a day, he could forget it. She wasn't that easy. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Han Solo is Not Nice
> 
> Do Not Believe Rebel Propaganda!!

Rey could not wait for everything to heal. Her leg and her arm itched all of the time, and she needed help for every little thing. Most of all, she was growing tired of being her Master’s ‘ _pet_ ’. 

Every day she would wake up, and a droid would assist her in putting her in a soft dress without agitating her broken arm. She would enter the kitchen and eat a lovingly prepared breakfast provided by one Benjamin Solo, who may or may not then cart her outside for some ‘exercise’. 

Her Master had many friends and associates, who came in at odd hours of the day to debate something or beg for political backing. If Rey happened to be present during one of these meetings, or if she should accidentally wheel herself into the formal dining room or the waiting room, Benjamin Solo would immediately break concentration and bleat out a greeting: ‘Hello Rey’, or ‘Hello, Princess Rey,’ or ‘Good evening, Princess, did you enjoy your walk?’ It was _horrid_. Depending on how desperate they were, his companions would do a little bow or bring her little presents. Rey now received several more flower bouquets, and boxes of tasty snacks and exotic fruits. Maz’s bouquet had already withered and died, but the First Order’s still remained flawlessly white as the day she received it. Ben said it was because of the chemicals. 

At last she finally broached the subject with him over dinner. “I wish you would stop being so _condescending_ towards me,” she told him. “I’m _not_ a Princess. And I don’t need flowers or food from people who don’t even know me.”

“You _are_ a Princess,” he said. “Everybody gives you presents because they _love_ you, _puppy_. You’re a _lovable_ girl.”

Clumsily, she slammed her fork down on the plate. “Will you _stop_ it and _listen_ to me?” she cried. 

Benjamin recoiled, as if her outburst had physically slapped him. 

Honestly, the only thing she wanted to do was to rip off her cast and to scratch her thigh with her fork. Her right hand wasn’t her dominant hand, and it was a struggle to eat, to brush her teeth, to brush her hair, or even wipe herself. She could do none of those things well, and her Master’s behavior wasn’t helping. She couldn’t even tell if his behavior was worsening, or if he had _always_ felt this way about her. 

Rey shook her head, and pushed the controls on her wheelchair to propel herself away from the dining table. She didn’t have much of an appetite for dinner anyway after trying out some of those exotic fruits. While driving through the gallery, Rey kept her head down to avoid looking at her Master’s art. Once she was inside her room, she closed the door but didn’t lock it. She had scheduled a sponge bath with one of the droids; she regretted it now, but she couldn’t find the droid to tell it to cancel her plans. 

Instead, she found a long, thin stick and pushed it _into_ her cast, trying in vain to scratch that pesky itch. She tried to watch a holovid to pass the time, but she just couldn’t pay attention. The droid barged in by the end of it, with a water bottle and a cloth to wipe her down with. 

“ _Bathtime_!” it chirped. 

Rey grit her teeth and beared it — the stripping down, the wiping, the shrill beeping. All of it, _humiliating_. To top it off, the droid set her down on her cast, and she nearly blacked out from the pain. “ _Whoopsie_!” The droid set her ‘delicately’ on the bed and apologized. 

“It’s alright,” she wheezed. “Just give me... give me the _pain pills_.” She had been taking those religiously for the last few days, always after dinner so that she would be able to go to sleep. 

The droid chirped an affirmative and left the room. It was gone for more than a few minutes. Rey could feel her heartbeat pulse through her cast. Her scalp felt itchy, but she was afraid of what that clumsy droid would do to her next to the sink. Rey pawed for one of her stuffies and hugged it to her chest.

When the droid returned, it made a sad noise at her. “ _Princess Rey_ ,” it droned, “ _your supply of painkillers from the hospital appears to have run out!_ ” 

“ _What_?” she cried. 

“ _Master Solo has been informed_ ,” said the droid. “ _He requests that you wait in your room. He will be with you in the next half hour.”_

“O-oh,” she said, only somewhat mollified. Rey thought about how she had left dinner, and grimaced inwardly. She felt a tinge of regret for how she reacted earlier. Maybe Benjamin had ordered more of her painkillers, but he was too preoccupied at the moment to give the droid the bottle. Rey sighed, imagining him at yet another emergency holo-meeting. So many panicked senators fearing their upcoming reelection campaigns, so many legislative proposals lacking necessary votes. “Tell him that he can take his time,” Rey replied sulkily. She knew where his priorities lay.

Truly, she could not _wait_ for her leg to heal.

.

When her door opened, Benjamin walked inside carrying not a bottle, but a cup. Rey paused the holovid that she was watching and looked at the clock on the wall. Her brow rose in surprise — ‘within the next half hour’, like the droid promised. “Did your meeting end early?” she asked.

Ben looked at her as if she had just leaped ten feet in the air. “What meeting?” Rey punched her stuffie away so she could sit up straight. “You have the _silliest_ thoughts, puppy,” he said ruefully. 

_Stop calling me that._ Her teeth clacked together. Whatever. Her scalp and her leg itched so bad, the one thing she wanted to do was to go to sleep. 

“The droid told me you haven’t washed your hair in a while,” he said suddenly. “Why don’t _I_ do it?”

Rey’s brow knitted together. Benjamin handed her the cup of... stuff. It was teal, and... _glittery_. Sparkly things shimmered on the surface. Rey sniffed it dubiously and detected floral notes with a hint of spiciness. Her mouth watered. But she couldn’t believe something so pretty should be drinkable; it looked suspiciously like liquid soap. “What _is_ this?” she asked.

“Some wine,” he said, shrugging. “Something my mother used to give me, when I was a youngling. It helped me to calm down.”

Rey took a sip of it and felt bubbles pop on her tongue — something unexpected. At the parties and galas that Benjamin brought her to, she was expected to drink what was in front of her and to pretend to like it. But, she liked _this_. Before she knew it, she finished the cup, and was disappointed to find it gone. She even licked the sparkly bits from the side of the cup, which almost glittered in the dark. “ _That’s enough, puppy_ ,” he said, pulling the cup from her. “ _There’s always more_.”

_Princess Puppy._

“What?” Rey said. Ben’s mouth hadn’t moved, but she heard the words ‘Princess Puppy’. She turned her head and wondered if the droid had entered the room. 

“Rey,” said Benjamin. He touched her shoulder and drew her attention back to him. Benjamin’s face appeared to glow softly. His lips looked especially soft and pink, and she found herself pursing her own lips. “Do you want me to wash your hair?” 

Rey touched her itchy scalp and nodded. “Yeah,” she said.

Benjamin slid his arms beneath her butt and lifted her into the air, before putting her into her chair. While he wheeled her out of the room, a hushing sound started in her ears. It wasn’t alarming at all, but something soothing and warm. It made her think of the beach. “I like the beach,” she said.

_I know._

“We should go to the beach _again_ ,” Rey said. The more she thought about it, the more it felt like a good idea. A _great_ idea. “We should go to the beach again, and see _Ahsoka_.”

Benjamin set up a chair in front of the kitchen sink, with a towel laid over the back of the chair. He picked her up and placed her on the seat, and Rey leaned her head backwards. Benjamin rolled his sleeves up to his elbow, and he took the faucet spray to wet her hair. Then he a squirted a bottle of fancy soap onto her hair. His hands felt nice. “You’re _really_ good at this,” she said. “You know what, Benjamin? We should go to an _island_.”

“That’s a _really_ good idea, puppy,” he agreed. 

“But not like, not like _Luke’s_ island,” she felt the need to clarify. “We should go to a _warm_ island, with a beach. And not a _rocky_ island, with rain. I like _Porgs_ , though.”

Benjamin washed off all the soap with the faucet spray, and then wrung all of the water out of her hair. Then he dried her off with a dry towel. Then he set her down on the wheelchair. “Your art’s _scary_ ,” said Rey, when they passed through the gallery. 

An image flashed in her head, like a face but all distorted. The skin peeled back. With a blink, it disappeared. “It helps me,” he said in a soft voice. 

Rey shivered and shuddered, but that second of fear passed. This was the happiest that Rey had ever felt in weeks. Rey had never thought of Benjamin as _scary,_ but he had a _darkness_ to him. Everybody had _darkness_ , even the Jedi. Even Rey.

“I love you,” he said, wheeling her inside her room. “I don’t care if you don’t understand me.” In a different voice, he said, “Your hair is still wet, puppy, so do you want to watch your holovids? They’re more fun when you’re high.”

Rey nodded.

.

Rey wheeled herself out of her bedroom the next morning. The sun shone white through the windows. Her Master sat in the kitchen, drinking something from a mug. “Good morning, puppy,” he said pleasantly. “How was your sleep?”

“Good,” Rey confessed. She caught herself running her fingertips down her hair, undoing a few tangles. Last night came to her recollection in vague snatches. She knew that she and Ben had watched holovids in her room almost all of last night, but she couldn’t remember him leaving. Her bed actually smelled a bit like him when she woke up. Rey didn’t know what to feel or what she should be feeling about that. All she knew was that her leg ached this morning.

“Do you want more medicine?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rey scratched behind her neck and found herself nodding her head. She had actually wanted to visit the refresher, but she wasn’t looking forward to the tangling with the droid since her leg ached so much. “What is it?” she asked.

Her Master stood up. He was fully dressed and groomed, hair combed, and casually be-robed as fitting for a Jedi consular on Naboo. She envied his ability to get up early in the mornings. “It’s a little spiced wine,” he said. “When I was a youngling, I couldn’t sleep a wink without it. Still can’t.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had such a good night’s sleep since _the accident_ ,” she gushed. Then she had a second thought, and she bit her lower lip. “Um. But _maybe_ I shouldn’t have wine so early in the morning, if it’ll make me drowsy.”

Ben made an affirmative sound. While his back was turned, he fetched her mug and filled it with something from the fridge and other things. Rey tried to learn exactly what spice he put in yesterday’s wine, but she couldn’t see over his broad shoulder.

She heard a spoon clinking fast against the side of a cup. “It’s mother’s secret ingredient,” he said, turning around. He handed her the mug, and Rey saw a clear liquid inside. She stared at it dubiously, before making out glittery bits floating to the surface. “It’s fruit juice. I could put it in blue milk, but that stuff makes me want to puke,” Ben explained. Rey tilted the cup back and drank it, comparing it to last night’s taste of wine. She recognized the uncomplicated taste of fruit juice, but the spice itself tingled in her mouth and at the back of her throat. Rey licked as much of the sparkly detritus off from the insides of the cup as she could, before handing the cup back to Ben. Then she waited.

“I remember feeling pretty loopy yesterday,” she said off-handedly. “I don’t remember holovids being so _funny_.”

“You were pretty adorable,” laughed Ben as he rinsed out her mug. “That’s what happens when you take it with wine. You should feel more grounded today, but the drawback is that you’ll still feel your leg.”

Rey lightly padded her leg as if to make sure it was still there. She opened her mouth, but heard a sort of hushing in her ears. She turned her head this way and that, thinking inexplicably of the ocean. Sand. An island. Benjamin sighed and carted her to the refresher without her remembering to ask.

* * *

The droid brought her back from her walk one day, when Rey saw someone sitting in the waiting room. “Good afternoon,” Rey said politely. “I regret to inform you that Master Solo won’t be in for the rest of the day. He was called away on urgent business, but he should be free tomorrow.”

If Rey or Ben were away, a droid would have conveyed this same exact message to them. Normally, the visitors would bob their head ingratiatingly and leave. Instead, this man cocked an eyebrow at her and swiveled his head to the side.

Already this man distinguished himself from her Master’s normal associates. He wore a black Henley jacket, and the end of his white shirt wasn’t tucked into his pants. He sat in the waiting room sofa in a rude way, unlike any desperate politician that Rey had seen before. He sort of leaned backwards, with his long legs spread akimbo. He had a long, rogueish face marked by age. In a rasping voice he remarked, “Oh he’ll _make_ time to see me,” through the corner of his mouth.

His shrewd eyes looked her up and down. “Are you his,” he made a twirling gesture with one of his hands, “his _Jedi_ student? Apprentice?”

Rey nodded slowly. She wasn’t sure who this man was, but a small part of her felt weary of him.

He gestured at her. “Did he do _that_ to you?”

Rey followed his hand toward her leg. Her stomach flipped at the question. She shook her head a little too harshly, before thinking over his question. Maybe he worded the question wrong, and he meant to ask if her injury was an accident, caused by him.

His hands flopped into his lap. His eyes observed her flatly. “You can tell me if he’s rough with you,” he said, “if he doesn’t treat you right. I’ll set him straight.”

“O-oh,” Rey mumbled, her face heating up.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Rey,” she said.

“The name’s Han Solo,” he said, thrusting his chin out in place of a handshake. “I’m here on family business.”

Rey waited for him to say ‘I’m Benjamin’s father’. Those three words would have saved her a whole lot of confusion and embarrassment. Instead he just sat there, as if deciding that that was all the introduction he needed. Rey internally compared this man to the first time she met Leia Organa, and decided that there had never been two completely different people.

Rey remembered something that she had always told Benjamin, and she had always planned to tell Han Solo the day they ever met. She figured that now was as good a time as any. “I know where the Millennium Falcon is,” she said.

His brow rose by a notch. “You do?” he said, in a disbelieving voice. Rey could grasp where Ben got his condescending voice from.

He shook his head. “Now don’t give me false hope, kid. I’ve been looking for that ship for years. I tracked it to Ducain, who told me he didn’t have it. He said the Irving boys had it, and when I found them, they didn’t have it either. The trail went cold.” He threw his hands in the air.

“The Irving boys didn’t have it because it was on Jakku,” Rey said. “I should know; I’ve been _inside_ it.”

A light sort of flashed inside the old man’s eyes. He straightened himself before hunching over in Rey’s direction, his eyes pinning her to the spot. He raised a hand to rub at the side of his face. “You’re not telling _stories_ to me, are you, kid?” he asked.

Rey told him about the ‘ _improvements_ ’ that Plutt made her perform on the ship, watching with no small satisfaction the way Han Solo’s brow twitch with disgust. “The talk on Jakku was that Plutt stole it from the Irving boys, who stole it from Ducain.” Rey sat back in her wheelchair.

“ _Jakku_ ,” he said again, shaking his head. “It’s always those desert _backwaters_ …”

“Would you really go get it?” Rey asked, tilting her head. “I mean, even before Plutt put his hands on it, it was basically a piece of _junk_.”

“ _Hey_.” Han’s eyes narrowed, and he thrust a crooked finger in her direction. “That ‘piece of junk’ made the Kessel Run in _six parsecs_ ,” he snapped. Flustered, Rey muttered an apology. Han’s shoulders relaxed and he crossed his legs in a bored way, like a bomb just defused. “This Plutt,” he said, “should I assume that he would _object_ if I were to take my ship back?”

Rey nodded. Han cursed under his breath and scratched his chin. “Well. He’s not a _father figure_ to you, right, kid?” he said. “I’m getting my ship back, end of story.” He sniffed. “Where the _fuck_ is my _fucking son_?” he demanded, growing irate. “I’ve got _Rathtars_ waiting. It’s a _rush delivery_ when it comes to those things.”

Benjamin Solo appeared not five minutes after that. He was red in the face and breathing heavy, as if he had sprinted the entire distance from the First Order’s building to his house. But when the Jedi Consular set eyes on his father, Rey didn’t imagine his face turning several shades darker. In a tight voice, Ben told her to go to her room, _now_. The last words she heard from Han were an ebullient review: ‘ _I like that one, Benjamin. You better treat her right._ ’


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: uwu

Finn pumped both of his hands into the air. “ _Let’s go_!” he screamed. Beside him, Poe Dameron raised a hand. Their palms smacked together like a thunderclap. Rey flinched — the Pazaak cards slipped from her hands and fell onto the table. 

For a long second, there was only the headache pounding in her skull. It wasn’t until a hand smoothed against her shoulder that she remembered she had guests over; Rey turned her head and saw Rose’s concerned face hovering over her. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Rey nodded, and then she heard, _You know there’s circles under your eyes_. Rey shrugged off Rose’s hand indignantly. 

_Somebody’s a sore loser_. Poe cocked a brow at her, his mouth twisting to the side. _Shit_. _Maybe she’s on the rag._ “ _That’s none of your business,_ ” Rey growled. 

Confusion passed among them like an electric charge. Rey blinked once, twice, before realizing she just replied to a remark that nobody said aloud. Nervous sweat broke along her brow and she gave a plastic smile. _Great; now what do I do?_ she asked herself. Ben would have slithered his way out of this situation on top, but now Rey knew she sat there looking crazy. Maybe she _was_ growing crazy.

Lately, she had discovered that she could read minds. She sort of realized this when her friends started coming over to play Pazaak and board games. Once she found she could ‘guess’ their hands based on the voices in her head, she realized what was happening. Only Ben knew. Her Master told her it was an extension of her growth in the Force; he seemed so _pleased_ with her. Now...

Rey brought her hands to her temples and muttered something about a headache. Poe collected his Pazaak cards and radiated distrust; he had always suspected that she was cheating, but he couldn’t figure out how. Finn asked if he could bring her a painkiller, but she could sense more suspicion wafting off of him; he did have some measure of Force-sensitivity. Rose simply wondered if she was coming down with something.

When her friends left, Rey was startled to discover that the sun hovered low in the sky. Her Master’s house overlooked a beautiful public garden, now cast in pink hues by the afternoon light. Once again, Rey had had a fitful sleep last night and woke up late in the day. She smoothed her fingers down her hair and breathed in the flowery air of the garden (floral notes with a hint of spiciness)

and her mouth watered. 

An instant _craving_ took root in her, and she turned her back to the gardens towards the darkened kitchen. Her Master was out late tonight on serious business. So serious, that a holo-meeting from home was deemed out of the question. Since Luke Skywalker revived the Jedi Council, he had been doing his very best to _strengthen_ it, and to make sure that another Sheev Palpatine or Anakin Skywalker would not infiltrate their ranks. It was up to Rey to ( **find** it, where is it where is)

to make her own meals and take care of herself, now that she could walk.

Hardwood cabinets hovered over the perimeter of the kitchen, enticingly out of reach to her when she was in the wheelchair. She opened these now and peered inside, just out of curiosity’s sake. 

“ _Mistress_!” The voice made Rey whirl around, with an unexplained pang of guilt. A droid stood at the entrance of the kitchen. “Would you like me to prepare your dinner?” it asked.

“Well — that would be nice,” said Rey. She grasped the countertop behind her for support. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had been caught in the act of something, a feeling which she tapped down with reason. In Benjamin’s absence, this was _her_ house, and _her_ droid. So she asked it, “But I was wondering, first, if you could make me a cup of Master Solo’s painkiller?”

A beat passed. Then, “I will inform Master Solo that you are in need of your pain relief medication,” the droid chirped dutifully. 

Rey shook her head. “No, no. It’s not medication, not _really_. Have you seen Master Solo make it for me? It’s a cup of... _wine_ or _juice_ , but he puts a sort of _spice_ in it. I don’t know what it’s called specifically, but it’s very _glittery_. Actually, if you could point to which cabinet that the spice is in, then I could make it myself.”

The droid shifted in place, its servos whirring softly. “ _I will inform Master Solo_ ,” it repeated. Rey couldn’t read the minds of droids, but was that _discomfort_ she heard in its voice? “ _Please wait for Master Solo_.” In a standard voice, it resumed. “Would you like for me to prepare your dinner?”

“... In a minute,” she said. She opened another drawer, and realized that the droid was still standing there. Before she thought of dismissing it, it turned and left the kitchen. Good; _good_ , she thought, grinning. Rey was sure that it was in here; where else would you keep a spice?

Before Benjamin Solo returned, Rey fixed up the kitchen as best as she could, her mind turning with the implications. She hid in the living room, far past midnight, and heard the sounds of him slipping into the house, sighing in resignation, and then the droid greeting him. The noise halted. Sweat broke out on Rey’s brow, and her teeth clacked together. The droid’s words repeated in her ears — ‘ _I will inform Master Solo_ ’. Rey smoothed the goosebumps over her arms. She hugged her knees to her chest, pushing herself into the sofa cushions.

The droid must have told him, because then he entered the living room, knowing that she was waiting there for him. Her Master wore a black Jedi robe; it dawned on her that at first glance, she wouldn’t know if her Master was a Sith or a Jedi. Rey heard that Sith looked ugly, but Ben told her that that was mean and prejudiced, and that she would find her answers through the Force. At the moment, Rey couldn’t feel anything from him. No great _good_ , no great _evil_. Just weariness.

“Can’t sleep?” he said, after a moment. Rey shook her head. “You’ve never waited for me to come home before. Not for a long time.”

His tone was matter-of-fact, but to Rey it sounded like an accusation. She _used_ to worry about him, until she realized that the life of a Jedi Consular wasn’t so dangerous. He wasn’t sneaking out at night dueling the Sith in a war against the Dark side of the Force; he was giving pep talks to depressed governors.

He raised a hand and slid it down half of his face, tugging his bottom lip down. He was tired, and mildly angry. He might have seen Luke at the meeting. That observation stalled her tongue, and kept her from bleating out all of her woes: her constant headache, the ache in her knee and her arm, her trouble sleeping. Ben’s eyebrows steepled and he placed his hands on his waist. He muttered something under his breath, maybe _Poor puppy._ For once, Rey didn’t mind; she _did_ feel like a poor puppy.

“Wait here.” He turned around and left the living room. His footsteps receded, in a direction away from the kitchen.

When he came back, he held a dropper in a dark glass vial. Rey breathed sharply. Benjamin filled the dropper, and raised the tip to his mouth. He tilted his head back and squeezed the dropper over his tongue. His nostrils flared briefly, but his eyes stayed half-lidded. Then he gave a shake of his head and sniffed, animal-like. “This doesn’t do anything for me anymore,” he said in a faint voice, “but I think you might like this more than me.” He placed the dropper back in the vial. 

Rey frowned. All this time, she had thought it _wasn’t_ officially medicine.

“Can you sit pretty for me?” he asked. Before Rey could bristle, he explained, “No feet on the couch. You know that.” He stalked closer to her and tapped her kneecaps lightly. One, two. Rey set her bare feet on the floor, and placed her hands in her lap, staring up at him. Rey debated whether or not to put her legs together, if proper ladylike-manners was what he wanted. Lately, she had appreciated wearing pants again.

Ben didn’t say anything more about the quality of her sitting. Instead, he filled the dropper and squeezed its liquid contents into his other hand. “Look,” he ordered, lowering his palm to her eye-level. Rey looked. A clear liquid nestled at the center of his hand. When she moved her head, there were little flashes of light. Pretty. Like liquid soap. Her tongue darted out, but propriety stopped her just short of licking it out of his hand like a dog. But, the _need_ of it pressed against her back, and made her lean towards it, the way a magnet is drawn towards a planet’s pole.

 _Good girl_ , he muttered. He flicked his hand, and all that pretty glitter dashed against the carpet. Rey watched in stunned horror. He brought his hand to his mouth and licked the rest off. 

“Can you speak?” he asked.

“Wha-.”

“ _Puppy_ ,” he said, sternly. He pinched the dropper.

Rey’s face slowly turned crimson. She should have walked away by now, but the _craving –_ the _need_ remained. Her leg ached _so_ bad, and her temple pulsed in time with her racing heartbeat. Her lips curved. “W... _woof,_ ” she said. 

His brow raised. Slowly, he drew the dropper out of the vial. 

The more she thought about it, the more she didn’t mind. She could never afford pride in the first place; she was never anybody’s princess. If she could have barked for her food, on Jakku... “Woof! _Woof!_ ” she cried. “ _Woof!!_ ”

A wide smile split his face. Rey barked in earnest, until the dropper pulled free. She tilted her head back and opened her mouth. The taste of the medicine was soft and sour, like a viscous water. Like the taste of something’s mouth. A confused whine escaped her. _Was I tricked?_ she thought. Then the numbing began, the tingling at the edges of her mind, and she began to float, or at least feel like floating.

Benjamin’s face took a glowing, rosy hue. “It’s stronger than you’re used to,” he said. “Is it okay, puppy? Do you want more?”

Ben made her ‘speak’ again, and he taught her how to do a real ‘sit pretty’ on the floor, because her knee didn’t hurt at all. The sound of the ocean roared in her ears, and she could even smell the salt of the sea. Ben took out the dropper and drank from the bottle itself, and then he fell down on his butt.

Rey crawled roughly over his body, trying to get the bottle, while he laughed. His long arms kept flailing it out of her grasp. “Puppy!” he cried, beside her ear. “Puppy, can you give me a _kiss_?” He tossed the dropper and mashed the spout of the vial to his lips. Rey watched it dribble down his throat and pool in his clavicle. Ben lowered the vial, before turning to her. His hand tangled in her hair and pushed her face towards his.

 _Kiss_ , Rey thought dully. _Puppy kiss_. Rey stuck out her tongue, just as Ben leaned in. Their teeth clacked together, and then Rey licked at the insides and the corners of his mouth, where the glitter sparked on her tongue. His lips moved as if to devour her. 

He wrapped his arms around her and bodily slammed her backwards onto the carpet. The change in positions stunned her; she squirmed and wriggled, but his weight and the Jedi robes pinned her down. Rey remembered when a sandstorm on Jakku ripped down a canvas tent over her head, and she had needed to fight her way out or be buried and smothered. Panicked, Rey pushed against his body, only for Ben to hug her tighter. _It’s alright, puppy, it’s alright_. 

Grabbing her calves, Ben pushed himself to an upright position, while sitting on his knees. He blew his hair out of his mouth and smiled down at her, before leaning in. Something hard pushed between her legs, and Rey looked down. 

Ben moved, and the hard thing pushed between her legs. She could see it, like a tent in his robes. She tried to wriggle away, but he held her by the back of her knees, pulling her towards him. Ben dipped his head so his hair fell over his eyes, while he rubbed one out against her. 

Ben squeezed the back of her legs while he dry-humped her, rubbing himself against her pussy. Each time, her back moved a little against the carpet. Static gathered in her hair, and in the crotch of her pants, where his robes rubbed against her. Her back made an arch and she stared up at the living room ceiling, unseeing. 

Until now, the only way she could do it was to flip on her belly and hug one of her big stuffies, which she hadn’t been able to do with her busted kneecap. The sensation, the weight, and the heat of his body was more than a little too much for Rey. She could feel muscles inside of her squeezing and coiling, a rush of warmth surging inside of her, seeking the crest of a wave. 

Ben shuddered, and his grip on her knees went lax. He bent towards her, his head bowing like the head of a withered flower. One of his big hands released her knee and went to his robes. He tugged at the fabric to take a closer look at it — a dark spot stained the crinkled fabric just below his torso. He opened his mouth, and a muffled cuss hissed out. One thought spilled out: _Now I have to rub that out_. Then he pulled his legs underneath him and rose gracefully to his feet.

Just like that, the tide slipped away, and left Rey stranded on the living room carpet. Helplessly, she reached a hand down and rubbed her cleft, trying to summon that pleasure back. The fact that her Master was still standing there was irrelevant to her — maybe a _fun fact_ , at best. It had been so long since she felt that kind of _release_ , and now she had been cheated of it, unfairly. It tore her up inside.

Benjamin clucked his tongue in sympathy and placed his hands on his waist. “You must be the _saddest_ puppy on Naboo,” he remarked.

At the tone of his voice, her thighs clapped together. She had probably heard _that_ voice a million times before: that mocking cadence that named her _princess_ or _puppy_ or _princess-puppy_. Like everything he did, it was condescending, demeaning, and _annoying_ ; a Padawan needed at least a _modicum_ of respect from her Master. But, it never struck her as _sexy_ or _arousing_ before. In fact, it _shouldn’t_ be sexy, in Rey’s opinion. But the pet names never made her squirm like this, before.

To her great relief, Ben didn’t seem to notice her discomfort. He shuffled towards her, humming one of the theme songs to a holovid show. He knelt down and picked her up in a bridal-carry, which was the very opposite of a droid’s meat-bag-carry. The ocean roared in her ears, only this time in stormy weather. The waves beat restlessly against the sand.


End file.
